


wrap me up in ribbons

by crunchrapsupreme



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Corset Piercings, M/M, Piercings, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:37:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2432384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crunchrapsupreme/pseuds/crunchrapsupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren gets corset piercings and Jean is <i>highly</i> appreciative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wrap me up in ribbons

**Author's Note:**

> idk i like erejean and i like corset piercings and i like rimming. so why not put them all in one fic heeyooooo
> 
> ([HERE](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rwZzz6RfR4Y/TcZ5s7IeGrI/AAAAAAAABdc/3STFdPR8OqE/s1600/back-pierce.jpg) is what a corset piercing looks like if you've never seen one)
> 
> also posted over on my [tumblr](http://crunchrapsupreme.tumblr.com/post/99624720033/wrap-me-up-in-ribbons-eren-jean-modern-au-nsfw)8)

Jean walks with a sense of purpose.

For all of his high school career, he tries to keep this essence about him. Tries to send messages without actually having to open his mouth. He isn’t terribly successful, to be honest. Nobody really ever seems to take him seriously, always overlooking the sharp gazes he sends out and the squared shoulders. Jean’s sense of purpose is a little diluted, during high school, in all honesty.

And then he meets Eren Jaeger. The idiot teenager with a dark cloud covering up his silver lining, who wears big, clunky headphones around his neck and ties bandannas around his knee for the ‘aesthetic’, whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean. The only fucking aesthetic Jean can see is the way the kid’s hair curls at the nape of his neck, and the way his bottom lip is always clamped between his endearingly crooked teeth. Jean absorbs this weird, horribly addicting fascination with the boy’s mouth, and when Eren finally catches his stare one day, in the middle of chewing at the fat of his bottom lip, wet and swollen looking from the abuse, Eren blinks, a flush rising to his cheeks.

That’s the day Jean discovers that staring at Eren Jaeger is the easiest way to break the kid down. Because Eren, Jean’s unfortunately discovered, has the sense of purpose that Jean’s always longed for.

\--

They date, they break up, they get back together. Jean learns Eren is a stubborn, opinionated dickhole. Eren learns Jean is a cocky asshole who’s weirdly obsessed with politics. Jean learns that Eren’s strangely self conscious about his thighs.

Jean also learns that he loves every inch of them.

They don’t start off good, right away. Their first encounter almost ends in a fist fight, but Eren is already on thin ice from his previous school for fighting, and Jean doesn’t want to ruin his perfect record. They have some sort of silent agreement, and throw their pent up energy that would normally go into throwing punches, into competitions. Arguments. Self proclaimed righteousness that neither of them actually believe about themselves. 

Jean knows he’s fucked when he catches himself staring at little too long, a little too silently into Eren’s eyes. They’re bright and wide, blue-green and magnificent, and Eren has three small freckles on the swell of his right cheek. Jean knows he’s fucked when he catches Eren staring back.

And Jean knows he’s fucking _fucked_ when he tastes Eren’s mouth for the first time and can’t get enough.

\--

“Did you remember to go grocery shopping?” Eren says, walking into the living room in nothing but a pair of jeans, riding low on his hips. His hair is wet, and when a few droplets slide down his neck, pooling in the dip of his collarbone, Jean can’t find it in himself to look away.

Eren chuckles, a slight blush rising to his cheeks, and it always amazes Jean how confident and sure Eren is, but then something as stupid and simple like Jean just _looking_ at him, with this disgusting look of adoration and want, can completely crumble Eren’s carefully built walls of control. It’s like Eren doesn’t believe it’s real, like he doesn’t believe he deserves to have someone look at him that way. Jean’s slowly working on trying to fix that.

“Are we out of food or something?” Jean replies finally, sprawling his legs open and tossing an arm across the back of the couch. Inviting.

Eren rolls his eyes, carefully shuffles into the room, towards Jean. “We _will_ be, if you don’t fucking stock up on food every once in a while.”

Jean snorts, and when Eren’s close enough, he reaches out, tugs him closer by his belt loops, and presses his face into Eren’s stomach. He kisses the soft skin there, rubs his nose along the fine hairs trailing down into Eren’s sweatpants, presses open mouth kisses over Eren’s stupidly adorable belly button ring. It’s a sunflower, and Jean remembers Eren bringing it to school one day, looking excited as he shoved the package in Jean’s face.

“You don’t even have your belly button pierced, dumbass,” Jean had said, and Eren had punched him in the shoulder before pocketing the sunflower piercing, and then rolling his eyes as he said,

“Not _yet_ , idiot.”

Jean feels the muscles jump beneath his lips, and Eren reaches up, yanks gently at Jean’s hair until Jean’s staring up at him again. The angle is awkward, but Eren’s blushing again so Jean counts it as a win.

“I’ll buy us food tomorrow, okay?” Jean leers, but then nips at Eren’s hip, hears the boy gasp quietly above him. “Even though I have all I want to eat right _here_.”

Eren snorts out a laugh at that, shoving Jean roughly before walking into their small kitchenette. The apartment they live in isn’t the nicest abode, but it gives them privacy and a roof over their heads, and it lets Jean wake up every morning to Eren’s insane bed head and raspy sleep-heavy voice, so he supposes it’s not too bad.

Jean remembers the arguments they had in high school, over futures and separation and Eren’s broken voice as he said, “You fucking asshole, you can’t just move to a different fucking city and _leave me_ ,” with tears sparkling in his eyes, as if he physically needed Jean, which is something Jean’s never _had_ before. No one’s clung themselves so desperately, so selflessly to him before. It was addicting, a feeling he fucking _adored_.

“I’d never fucking _leave_ you,” Jean had said, cupping Eren’s face in his hands, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe tears that hadn’t yet fallen. “Come _with_ me, asshole.”

Eren didn’t want to go to college. Jean did. They compromised.

Now, Eren works in a tattoo parlor, doing piercings since he can’t draw for shit. He doesn’t mind his job, it has it’s good days and bad days, and Jean is particularly fond of it because Eren with all of his array of piercings is fucking hot. He has his eyebrow done, a line of studs going up his right ear and two hoops in his cartilage on the left, his navel done, his collarbones and his hipbones, and an adorable little stud in his nose. Jean keeps trying to convince him to get his dick pierced, but Eren is adamant on not letting any sort of sharp object near his crotch.

Eren clanks around in the kitchen, and Jean stands up, stretching a bit before following, wrapping his arms around Eren from behind as the shorter boy pours himself a bowl of cereal.

Eren huffs, elbowing Jean in the ribs. “Fuck off, snuggly dickhole. I’m _cooking_.”

“Making cereal isn’t _cooking_. It’s literally a simple act of pouring one thing into another thing.”

“ _You’re_ a simple act of pouring one thing into another thing,” Eren grunts, and Jean snorts and pretends it makes sense. Eren’s not particularly the most eloquent in the mornings before work. The shop doesn’t open up until noon, but him and Jean usually stay up pretty late since it’s the only time they really get to spend relaxing together besides Sunday’s.

“You got any insane appointments today?”

Eren sags in Jean’s arms, taking a bite of his cereal. “Got a clit piercing scheduled today, and a few noses. But other than that I’m up for walk-ins.”

“Mm. Sounds like a slow day,” Jean murmurs, suddenly getting tired. He skipped his morning class today, and his next class isn’t until 2pm.

Jean makes a face when Eren tips the bowl back and drinks the remaining milk, finally releasing his hold and stretching, back cracking audibly. He groans in relief, and Eren makes a face at him, because Jean knows Eren hates it when he cracks _any_ part of his body.

“Go back to sleep, you irresponsible college kid,” Eren says, pressing a fleeting kiss to Jean’s jaw before bounding back to the bedroom to toss on a tee shirt. When he comes back out, Jean’s back on the couch, curled up, fast asleep. Eren bites his lip, leans down to kiss his hair, and then grabs his keys and heads to work.

\--

_Jean: what do you want for dinner_

_Eren: i’m literally going to be home in like 5 mins_

_Jean: what. do you want. for dinner. asshole._

_Eren: oh my god just make fucking pasta or something. see u soon_

_Jean: love u_

_Eren: love u 2 u piece of trash_

The noodles are just being poured into the strainer when Eren walks into the door, and when Jean looks up to greet him, he sees the boy’s face pinched just slightly in what looks like discomfort or pain. Jean furrows his eyebrows and sets the strainer full of noodles in the sink, walking over to Eren and cupping the side of his neck, says,

“What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?”

Eren blinks up at him, suddenly acutely aware of his own expression, and it dissolves into a smile quicker than Jean’s ever seen. Even quicker than the first time he told Eren he loved him, and _that_ was a pretty fucking fast change from ‘annoyed’ to ‘’brightest smile known to man’.

“M’fine. Just a long day at work. That pasta better be fucking delicious.”

Jean rolls his eyes, walking back to the kitchen and calling over his shoulder. “My pasta is always fucking delicious. I’m like Gordan fucking Ramsay.”

“Mmm, I wouldn’t go that far,” Eren snorts, following Jean and sitting down at the table.

They eat in relative silence, Jean briefly retelling the story about how his professor was 20 minutes late for class and he almost just left right then and there. Eren retelling the story about the girl getting the clit piercing, and how she didn’t even flinch, and _damn, what a hardcore chick. If I wasn’t completely gay for your trash ass I’d be all over that._

Jean initiates a game of footsie, and Eren gets a concentrated look on his face, his tongue peeking out slightly as he tries to hook his ankles around Jean’s. When Jean pulls particularly roughly, Eren gasps quietly as he’s jostled in his chair. Jean stops immediately, frowning, and says,

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Eren sucks in a breath, bites his lip, and Jean knows when he looks at Eren, when he locks eyes with him, schools his expression into something soft, something to be trusted, Eren can’t help but break down whatever he’s trying to hide behind. Jean’s learned over the years that he’s become one of Eren’s few weaknesses. It’s not completely bad, because Jean’s also learned that Eren has become his, too.

“I…., well. I mean, yeah, I’m okay, just.” Eren stops talking, pursing his lips. “I was gonna wait, but I mean. You’ll see it eventually. Might as well just show you now.”

He looks insanely shy all of a sudden, and Jean’s so fucking confused and concerned but also anxious, because Eren’s biting his lip on a hesitant smile, standing up and holding out his hand to Jean before dragging him to the couch. He sits down, and Jean sits down, and the silence is heavy but not unwelcome. Jean reaches up, smooths out Eren’s brow with his thumb, and Eren relaxes.

“I don’t know why I’m so fucking…. _god_. Just - you make me so fucking nervous sometimes,” Eren breathes out, laughing a little at himself and rubbing the back of his neck. Jean swallows, because they’ve been together for years, but Eren can still make his stomach do somersaults. It’s kind of amazing, actually.

“Fucking… _dumbass_ ,” Jean murmurs, kissing the corner of Eren’s mouth, his cheek, his jawline, murmuring against the skin. “Just show me. Did you get a stupid tattoo or some shit? Don’t worry, I’ll still love you if you got Danny Devito tatted on your ass.”

Eren snorts and shoves Jean in the shoulder. “Shut the fuck up and close your eyes.”

Jean, albeit the slight nervousness he feels himself, does as he’s told, digging his fingers into his thighs as he hears the tell-tale _swish_ of Eren removing his shirt, and after a few moments Jean makes an inpatient noise in the back of his throat, quiet but eager.

Eren huffs and says, “Okay, okay, you can open your eyes now.”

The sight before him is one he’s seen many times. Eren, shirtless, fingers twisted together in his lap, eyes averted and lips pursed. Jean scoots closer, lets his eyes scan over the slightly tanned skin, the softness of his belly and the stark contrast of the silver piercings in his hips. Jean doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary, and he reaches out, runs his hands up Eren’s sides just to feel the boy shiver. He opens his mouth to say something, eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion, but then Eren takes a deep breath, turns around on the couch so his back his facing Jean, and the taller boy’s mouth closes so fast his jaw clicks, words dying in his throat as he takes in the sight before him.

The only sound in the air is the hum of the fridge from the kitchen area, and the soft, slightly stuttered breaths Eren’s trying to control. The boy gets worked up so _easily_ , and Jean shakes his head, presses his thumbs into the dimples of Eren’s lower back until he relaxes against the touch, and when his shoulder blades finally become less tense, body sagging a bit, Jean finally lets himself utter a whispered but awed,

“Holy _shit_.”

In two neat rows down the middle of Eren’s back, silver hoops are pierced into the skin. The rows curve inward near the middle and then flare back out, giving it an hourglass shape, or -

“Corset piercings,” Eren supplies, voice strained, and he jumps a bit when Jean runs gentle fingers up his sides, ticklish.

“Holy fuck,” Jean manages not-so-eloquently, because sure, he’s heard of these before, but he never once thought about what they’d actually look like on _Eren_. Eren already sort of has a slight curve to his hips, almost feminine, and this new addition to his body just emphasizes it more. Jean wants to trace each and every ring with his tongue, soothe over the ache and burn until Eren’s arching up beneath him, needy and pliant.

“I was just gonna have them laced up at the shop,,” Eren starts, and then he reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a long, sheer, black mesh ribbon. “But I kind of wanted you to do it?”

It comes out sounding like a hesitant question, and Jean’s reaching for the ribbon with trembling fingers before he can even properly respond, breathes out a quiet, “Yeah, yeah, okay. Okay. Um.”

And Eren laughs, finally, craning his head back to look at Jean, and the swells of his cheeks are pink. “Just do it like you’d lace up a sneaker, okay? And don’t pull too tight, they’re still sore.”

Jean nods, opts not to say anything lest his voice crack like it did when he went through puberty years ago. God, the things Eren can fucking _do_ to him. It’s unfair, really. Completely fucking unfair, and Jean tentatively pulls the ribbon through the first hoop, trying to keep it flat and not to tug too much on the jewelry itself. Eren inhales a bit, but relaxes soon after, and Jean can’t help it when he darts forward and presses a gentle kiss against the skin next to the hoop.

“Not so _tight_ , asshole,” Eren hisses when Jean’s finally at the bottom, attempting to tie a loose but secure bow above the dimples of Eren’s lower back.

“Sorry! Sorry, fuck, are you okay?” Jean says, and Eren snorts and laughs a bit, says,

“Yeah, s’fine. Are you done? How does it look?”

Jean sits back a little, taking in the sight before him, and his heart is hammering so loud in his chest he can feel it in his whole body, down to his toes and back. It’s loud, almost deafening, and he leans forward, mouths softly at the nape of Eren’s neck, murmuring against the skin there,

“You’re fucking _gorgeous_.”

Eren makes a quiet noise again, soft and denying, and Jean just rolls his eyes and turns Eren’s body just enough so that he can slot their lips together. And this, this is familiar. Warm, sharp, and bruising, and Eren presses into Jean’s mouth almost desperately, reaching a hand up to curve around Jean’s jaw, guiding him into an off-rhythm of mouths and tongues and spit.

“C’mon,” Eren whispers, biting at Jean’s bottom lip, tugging at it harshly until Jean’s hissing and following the movement of Eren’s body as he stands up. His jean’s ride low on his hips, and when he turns and starts walking towards the bedroom, Jean lets himself watch him go. The black ribbon laced into the hoops is a stark, beautiful contrast against his skin, and Eren’s like a walking masterpiece. Absolutely breathtaking.

Jean scrambles off the couch when Eren disappears around the corner, and Eren laughs against Jean’s mouth when Jean growls and fumbles with the button on his pants, awkwardly walking them back until he’s lying on the bed with a naked Eren on top of him. The shorter boy squirms a bit, sitting up so he’s straddling Jean’s hips, palms planted flat on his chest, and Jean gazes up at him, open and honest and like he hung the fucking _moon_.

Eren gets shy again, bottom lip protruding in a slight pout as he tries to get used the unabashed admiration Jean fucking showers him with. For a complete asshole, Jean really knows how to make the people he loves feel on top of the world.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Eren mutters, running a hand through his hair and peeking down at Jean, who’s grinning up at him like a goddamned idiot.

“You get a fucking _corset piercing_ , and then you tell me not to look at you?” Jean asks, but he’s still grinning, and he’s running eager fingers up Eren’s thighs, up until they can trace at the curves of his hips.

“I didn’t mean - _that_ ,” Eren says suddenly, annoyed as he waves an idle hand toward Jean’s face, towards his eyes, open and wanting. “That. Right there. Stop it.”

“You want me to stop looking at you like -  ”

“Don’t _say it!_ ”

“ - I love you? Is that it?”

“Oh my fucking god I’m _leaving_.”

Jean bursts into laughter and tugs Eren down against his chest before he can climb away, careful not to jostle his new piercings, and kisses his ear. Eren and his dumb complex of _still_ being completely baffled that someone - let alone _Jean_ \- loves him. Is _in love_ with him. It’s so fucking amusing and stupidly endearing how embarrassed and _weird_ Eren still gets about that. Jean’s slowly trying to work out those kinks in Eren’s brain though, intricately but surely, because Eren Jaeger deserves to be able to fully believe that he’s wanted. Jean intends to show him just _how much_ that is.

After Jean manages to get Eren to relax against him again, he licks up the shell of the boy’s ear, says, “Can I fuck you against the headboard?” His voice is all quiet and languid and low, and Eren sighs an affirming, “ _yeah,_ ” into the skin of his neck.

Jean makes quick work on sitting them both up, maneuvering Eren carefully until he’s on his knees, arms stretched out and gripping the headboard in front of him while Jean nudges his knees apart, slicked fingers already prodding inside. It’s tight and warm, and Jean finally lets himself lick gently around the hoop of the lowest ring, tasting metal and the sharp, pungent taste of cleansing alcohol. Eren’s breath hitches, and he grinds back against Jean’s fingers, scissoring him open thoroughly.

Without warning, though, Jean ducks down, spreads Eren open, removes his fingers, and licks a firm circle around his entrance, flicking inside and tasting heat and the stale-sweet taste of the flavored lube Eren bought for them. He breathes hotly through his nose, looks up through his lashes at the line of Eren’s back, sees the muscles shifting, and the ribbon ends tickle Jean’s nose where they drape over the curve of Eren’s ass. He supposes they should probably trim those, but for right now all Jean can focus on are the broken, breathy little noises Eren’s letting out, fingers gripping the headboard so hard his knuckles are turning white.

“Fuckin’ - _shit_ , Jean, please, _fuck me_ ,” Eren manages, letting his head fall between his shoulder as he grinds back into Jean’s mouth, moaning when Jean hums against him, licking into his heat.

“Whatever you want, babe,” Jean murmurs, laughing softly when Eren grunts and kicks him in the shin at the endearment. But then he’s sighing, filthy and open, as Jean finally slicks himself up and slides inside, Jean’s right hand splayed open on Eren’s chest while his left holds Eren’s hip in a tight grip, pulling the boy back against him.

Jean lets himself appreciate the view, rolling his hips slowly and torturously while he just fucking _stares_. Stares at the flush on the back of Eren’s neck and at the tip of his ears, stares at the strands of hair on his nape beginning to dampen and curl with sweat, stares at the intricate hoops and lace splaying outwards and then inwards and then back out again, and Jean feels a sudden rush of heat encompass his body, needy and urgent.

“ _Oh_ ,” Eren breathes, arching his head back and grinding backwards into Jean’s thrusts when he suddenly starts fucking him in earnest. “ _Jean_ , oh, _f-fuck._ ”

Jean leans over and kisses across his shoulder blades, whispers, “So pretty, you’re so fucking _pretty_. All laced up like a fucking present, huh?”

Eren just whines, high and needy, and when Jean pants into the junction of his shoulder, shudders and moans low as he comes apart inside, Eren gasps in unison as his dick twitches finally, spurts of come streaming all over the sheets below him. Jean resists the urge to just flop onto Eren, instead leaning back on shaky legs and disposing of the condom, and when he comes back to the bed, Eren is sprawled onto his stomach, peeking up at Jean through his lashes. Jean rolls his eyes and brushes damp hair back from the boy’s forehead, and then trails fingers lightly down Eren’s back, between the spaces of the hoops, and Eren shivers, goosebumps rising on his skin.

“They’re only temporary, you know,” Eren murmurs, pressing his cheek into the pillow as Jean slides in next to him. “I’m taking them out in a few weeks. Too high maintenance for me.”

“Mmm,” Jean says, pressing a kiss to Eren’s shoulder and slinging an arm across Eren’s hips, low enough not to jostle the piercings. “Gonna get your dick pierced next, then?”

Jean can’t even find it in himself to be mad when Eren shoves him hard enough that he falls of the bed, laughing through the pain of his elbow slamming into the corner of their bedside table.

Maybe one day, he thinks, staring up at Eren, blue-green eyes lowered in faux-annoyance even though Jean can see a smile curling at his lips. Maybe one day. 


End file.
